


One Love, Two Mouths

by wingsofbadass



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Ahomine being Ahomine, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2241765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsofbadass/pseuds/wingsofbadass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daiki has always been a little slow, it takes him a while to notice things. Like the way he feels about Satsuki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Love, Two Mouths

**Author's Note:**

> This is my way of coping with the apparent end of the manga and the result that AoMomo will never become canon now. The title is taken from the song Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood although it's anything but in this in this fic. You can listen to it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GCdwKhTtNNw).
> 
> Thank you to my dear Sarah/Spockishot for betaing and generally being awesome.

The air in his apartment is hot and stuffy when he steps in. With a grunt, Daiki lets the gym bag drop from his shoulder, before he toes off his Air Jordans. After a second's hesitation he peels off his socks as well, leaving them on the floor carelessly. He is going to regret that later but for now he can't find it in himself to give a shit.

 

Crossing through the little room to the kitchenette in the corner, he crouches down to yank open the fridge and take out a can of Coke. He moans a little at the feeling of the cool air hitting his skin and he almost lets himself fall forward into the bliss. Daiki does close the fridge door after a couple of moments, the bottles of nail polish in the door clattering, and struts over to his extendible couch, the cold can pressed against his cheek.

 

A glance at the clock confirms that he is just in time for his favorite sportscast, so he turns on the TV and settles against the cushions to enjoy his Coke. He snorts in annoyance at the results from today's games in the first basketball league, kicking his feet up at the coffee table. While the drink has helped cool him down, the air is still stifling and he realizes he should have opened the window. Now that he's sitting, however, he can't bring himself to stand up again. The air outside isn't much cooler anyway. His eyes flicker back to the clock.

 

It's not like he's waiting or anything.

 

Daiki just likes to be prepared. Likes to enjoy the minutes of peace and quiet before his apartment is filled with babble and pink stuff and the smell of raspberry shampoo. What a nuisance. He ignores the glossy fashion magazine on the table as well as the bright yellow pair of slippers, looking tiny next to his in the entry. Especially annoying are the little post its stuck everywhere, little reminders to call his mother and drink enough water in this heat, and always signed with a smiley face. Very irritating, yes.

 

He's unsuccessful at holding back a smile when he hears her clatter down the hallway with all the grace of a drunk elephant. Hearing that ridiculously heavy step, nobody would ever suspect such a delicate-looking girl to be the cause. But then again, they don't know the force within. Not like he does.

 

There is the sound of a key being pushed into the lock. Daiki gave her the spare key to his apartment when he moved in, for emergencies. So mainly for when he locked himself out like the moron he was and she had to come save him. Unsurprisingly, she kept the key on the same ring as the key to her own home, using it to let herself in whenever the fuck she wanted. There is no use in arguing with her.

 

When the door opens, he has managed to school his features back into a disinterested mask, eyes trained on the TV screen. Satsuki lets out a deep sigh as she pulls the key out of the lock and steps into his tiny apartment.

 

“Ugh, the humidity is killing me,” she groans. With a flick of her shoulder she lets her absurdly large handbag fall to the floor .Not unlike the way Daiki did only a little while ago. He does look at her then, giving a groan of agreement. Satsuki is balancing on one foot to unfasten the strap of her high heeled sandal, one hand braced against the wall. He tries not to look at the bra strap slipping down her bare arm.

 

She has gathered her long hair up into a messy bun on the top of her head but several strands have broken free of the hold and are now sticking damply against her sweaty skin. When her shoe falls off her foot, she switches legs and fumbles for the other one. If she takes notice of his stinky socks, she doesn't mention them.

 

“Why haven't you opened a window, Dai-chan?” she asks, exasperation resonating with her words.

 

“Forgot,” he replies and she rolls her eyes at him. Her bare feet thud across the laminate floor, her plaid skirt swaying with her hips, and she wrenches open the window.

 

As she gets a drink from the fridge, she chatters at him about some idiot in her Statistics class, that had dared underestimate her based on her appearance, and Daiki feels a fierce pride blossom in his chest when she ends the anecdote with “and after I was done with him, he apologized and didn't say anything else for the rest of the lecture.”

 

“I bet he cried in the bathroom afterward.”

 

She smirks at him, that wicked glint in her eyes, and plops down on the couch next to him. Daiki doesn't complain when she sprawls across the cushions and lays her feet in his lap. They watch the rest of the sportscast together in silence and he doesn't even notice he's playing with her toes until she lets out a small giggle.

 

Heat creeps up his neck and he's sure she can see him blushing so he keeps his eyes forward, not daring to look at her.

 

“Dai-chan?” she asks, the diminutive drawn out in her voice, “would you rub my feet for me? Please?”

 

His first instinct is to growl at her but he knows he will cave eventually, he always does. So he swallows his pride and puts his hands back on her feet. Satsuki lets out a satisfied hum when his thumbs dig gently into the soles of her left foot, working through the arch and the ball where he knows the heels hurt her.

 

“Hhhhmm, that feels good,” she breathes, making his heart jump into his throat when his brain conjures up a whole other context for those words, for that voice. In an attempt to push away any thoughts of her arched spine underneath him and his name on her lips, he tears his gaze from the screen and looks down at her feet. He needs to focus on the task at hand which is massaging his best friend's feet.

 

Because that's what she is. His best friend.

 

Daiki switches to her right foot, repeating his movements. He tries to think of nothing as he handles her foot, so small in his large dark hands, tries not to imagine how it would feel to slide his palms up her calves, up her thighs, up, up... He tries to focus on identifying the color of the polish she's applied to her toe nails. Is it Peach? Maybe it's more of a Coral? Or Cantaloupe? He doesn't know shit about colors.

 

“Dai-chan? Your face looks scary.”

 

A nervous chuckle escapes his lips, completely undignified, and he flicks his eyes up to her face. She sits up and looks at him worriedly, maybe also a little amused.

 

“Sorry, kinda zoned out,” he murmurs, his hands stopping their stroking but still lingering on her skin.

 

“ _Zoned_ out,” she giggles and the way her nose scrunches up is sickeningly adorable.

 

“Ugh, shut up, Satsuki,” he growls in response and tosses one of the throw pillows in her face. She shrieks theatrically and flings the pillow back at him with ridiculous aim, missing him completely. With a loud cackle he picks it up from the floor, then tackles her back onto the couch, balancing above her, his hands pressing her wrists down into the upholstery.

 

“What the hell was that?” he sneers over her squealing laughter. “Aren't you supposed to be some kind of Basketball pro?”

 

“How could I ever measure up to the great Aomine?” she asks and then conjures up a deep frown. Her voice low, she continues mockingly, “ _The only one who can beat me is me._ ”

 

That's it. Holding down her arms with one hand, he grabs the pillow again and whacks her in the face with it.

 

“Aaaahhh, Dai-chan! Stop it!”

 

He whacks her again, laughing obnoxiously. And again. When she starts kicking her knees into his back, he has mercy on her and throws the pillow to the side, bringing his free hand back to her wrists.

 

Satsuki is breathing a little hard underneath him, her chest rising and falling just the tiniest bit more rapidly than normal. Her fiery eyes are narrowed at him but he can't help think she looks stunning. Her bun has come even more undone and loose strands trail across the sofa like silk. His heart may be trying to burst out of his chest to reach her.

 

“You're a jerk,” she huffs up at him and he grins.

 

“I know.”

 

For a couple of heartbeats they just look at each other, her gaze gradually softening, while his blood sings her name in his veins. Daiki is not sure when he leaned down towards her but suddenly she is so close he can feel the brush of her breasts against him, her shaky exhale ghost across his face. A melancholy kind of longing flares up in his chest and he can see the same feeling reflected in her eyes.

 

Slowly, he leans closer, watching her face for any sign of objection. With a flutter of thick lashes, her eyes close. The heavy air around them can't even come close to the warmth spreading between them.

 

The little sound she makes when his lips press down on hers shatters him. The kiss they share is soft, slow, a contradiction to the thundering of his heart, the hitch in his breath as she moves her mouth with his.

 

A shudder runs down his spine when her lips part for him and he deepens the kiss gladly, sighing into the heat of her mouth. Sometime during their kiss his fingers have twined with hers, holding her hands tenderly in his, and he can feel himself falling, plummeting while his heart soars as he presses closer to her. She's so, so soft and Daiki might just get lost in the feeling of her skin.

 

When he pulls back and looks down at her, the sight of her wet lips does not help him regain his breath. She opens her eyes slowly, almost hazily. It's such a beautiful view he doesn't know how he ever lived without it.

 

“Hey,” she breathes with a smile, greeting him as though he just got home, and he mirrors her, feels his lips stretch into a hopelessly wide grin.

 

“Hey,” he says, his voice rough, and it is as if he sees her for the first time. A tidal wave of emotions, new and familiar at once, washes over him, hurling him this way and that, leaving him breathless. Finally releasing her hands, he balances on his elbows, running his thumb over her flushed cheek. His heart tumbles helplessly when she turns her head to kiss his fingertips.

 

“Took you long enough.” Satsuki says it, whispers it to him like a secret, her eyes shining with mirth. Warmth rushes up into his cheeks and he looks away with a huff, ignoring her soft laughter. Smooth arms snake around his shoulders, fingers slip into his hair and Daiki finds himself leaning into the touch, seeking to soothe the confused storm inside of him.

 

“It's not like _you_ did anything either,” he grumbles, eyes trained on their slippers by the door. He's not sure why he hasn't realized, hasn't let himself realize what Satsuki was to him. She is all over his apartment, all over his life, all over his soul. And she always has been.

 

“I was waiting for you to notice.”

 

His eyebrows scrunching together slightly, he looks back down at her.

 

“How could I not notice you?”

 

“No, I mean,” Satsuki begins, her eyes flickering between his as she struggles for words, “notice _us_.”

 

It seems painfully, ridiculously obvious now. The way they touch each other so naturally. The way the scent of her shampoo seems to fill him with this quiet happiness. The way she's always been by his side. The way her name is as familiar to him as his own. The way her hand fits into his.

 

“Well, I noticed now,” he says dumbly and she snorts, before she pulls him down again by the neck.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments make me happy. Like cookies :)


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